


Fey and Darkling

by methylviolet10b



Series: October Spooktacular 2019 [4]
Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Gen, Happy Halloween, Injury, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-16 03:01:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21263984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/methylviolet10b/pseuds/methylviolet10b
Summary: Holmes did not recognize the man standing at the window. Written for prompt #5 for October Spooktacular over on Watson's Woes.





	Fey and Darkling

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Unsettling Vocabulary: Use some of your favorite spooky, haunting, or otherwise scary words! I used the two you see in the title.
> 
> Warnings: More of a fragment than anything else. Happy Halloween everyone!

“Go on, Holmes.”

The words and sentiment were typical of my friend, but something about the tone froze me where I stood.

Watson did not look at me. He kept his eyes fixed straight ahead from where he stood, staring out the bare window of the half-ruined croft where we’d taken momentary shelter, his revolver in his hand. He rested one knee against the wall, taking the weight off of his wrenched ankle, but otherwise showed no signs of the pain we both knew he was in. “You said yourself that the Inspector and his men should be waiting in the glen. That’s not a half-mile away. If you go now, there’s every chance you can reach them and lead them back here before Curtis and his men find this place.”

Entirely reasonable, and yet entirely wrong. This wasn’t Watson’s habitual bravery; this was Watson fey and darkling, a man I had never seen before. “And if I cannot?”

A faint smile appeared in the shadows of his moustache. “This isn’t the plains. There’s only one path to this place, and I have plenty of cover here. If they do come before you do, I expect I can hold my own well enough for a time.” The smile faded. “I’ve some familiarity with ambushes.”

_Plains…ambushes…_ It took no particular deductive reasoning to understand what experience informed Watson’s words. I am not a fanciful man, but I had the strongest premonition that if I left Watson alone here now, I would never see him alive again.

“I think our chances are better together than apart,” I told him briskly. “They know you’re injured, and would expect us to try and take shelter in some place exactly like this. No, my friend; we shall keep going, together, until we reach the police.”

Watson blinked and finally looked away from the window and at me. “Holmes, I can scarcely walk, and I have nothing with which to bind up my ankle any better than it is now.”

“You’d have done so already if you did,” I agreed. “But you can still walk, and so you shall. And if you cannot, I will find a way to carry you. Until that moment, we’re wasting time.”

My friend opened his mouth to protest, then closed without making a sound. He shook his head, and was once again my Watson, my friend, rueful and resigned. “There’s nothing I can say that would change your mind. Very well, Holmes. We’ll try it your way.”

Onward we went, together, into the gathering dusk.


End file.
